Visiting Hours
by Ronda Sexton
Summary: Trip Visits T'Pol while she recovers from being shot in "Shadows of P'Jem."


TITLE: Visiting Hours  
AUTHOR: R. F. Sexton  
SERIES: ENT  
RATING: G  
CODE: Trip/T'Pol  
SUMMARY: Trip pays visits to T'Pol as she recovers from her injuries in the episode "Shadows of P'Jem."  
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, the ship, and the episode belong to UPN/Paramount. The story belongs to me.  
  
A special thank you to my beta readers: PJinNH, PJS, SnoopMary, and Cincoflex.  
  
  
  
  
  
Trip walked into sickbay and Dr. Phlox looked up. "Commander Tucker, what may I do for you?"   
  
"Just came by to check on T'Pol." Seeing her take that bolt had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He would have gladly sent that Coridian straight to hell where he belonged. If the Andorians had not fired on him, he would have.  
  
With his usual enigmatic smiled he replied, "She's awake, you can visit with her if you like. He then returned his attention to the sample he was studying.  
  
Trip nodded, relieved that T'Pol was well enough to have visitors. He walked quietly into the ICU cubicle, where T'Pol lay staring at the ceiling. She seemed so frail and vulnerable lying there. He was surprised at the strong protective feelings seeing her evoked.  
  
"Hey there, T'Pol, how ya feeling?" he asked softly. She looked as if she were trying to fight her pain. Even in the soft light, he could see how pale she was. He wished he knew what to do to help her.  
  
She gazed at him for a few seconds before she answered. "I am feeling some discomfort. However, Dr. Phlox says I should make a complete recovery." Her voice was weak, not like her usual crisp tone.  
  
"How long are ya stuck here in sickbay?"  
  
"Dr. Phlox anticipates that I will be in sickbay for at least twenty-four hours. Then, I will be released to my quarters. I am uncertain as to when he will deem me fit to resume my duties," replied T'Pol. Weariness crept into her tone. It was clear that she was having difficulty maintaining any measure of control. Once again, Trip wished he could blast that damned Coridian straight to Hell.  
  
Trip smiled and leaned against the console beside her bed. "The Captain tells me it looks like ya won't be leaving us after all." This had been the best news he had heard besides the fact that T'Pol was going to survive. He had dreaded having to say goodbye to her.  
  
"I am pleased that I will be able to stay aboard the Enterprise," she confessed. "The disgrace I faced on Vulcan was not going to be pleasant."  
  
"No matter what those bastards at Vulcan High Command say, what happened at P'Jem was not your fault," he declared emphatically. "You did the right thing. The Vulcans violated the treaty, not you." The fact that Soval and the Vulcan High Command wanted to pin the destruction of P'Jem on her infuriated him. He wanted nothing more than to do some major butt kicking. Those self-righteous, arrogant sons of bitches had violated their own treaty, then when they got caught, they picked T'Pol as their fall guy. It was neither logical nor fair.  
  
A haunted expression crossed her face. "Relics that can never be replaced were lost to my people forever."  
  
"If you hadn't handed over those scans, the Andorians probably would have blasted P'Jem away without any warning. All of the monks and the intelligence operatives would have been killed." stated Trip firmly as he straightened. "And as for their claims that if you hadn't brought us to P'Jem in the first place, none of this would have happened, you had no way of knowing of that some of the monks were actually intelligent agents. As far as you knew, it was just a damn monastery. The monks welcomed us. Hell, they even presented us with that Vulcan stone."  
  
"The High Command does not share your view of the situation," she whispered.  
  
Trip felt his fury rise at her mention of the High Command. The only thing they were looking for was a scapegoat. He barely managed to keep his temper out of his voice. "How do ya see it, T'Pol?" he asked gently. He really wanted to know what she thought about this.  
  
She thought for a few seconds. "There is reasonable logic for both arguments," T'Pol answered.  
  
She shifted her position and winced. Trip knew from that small loss of control that she must be in a lot of pain.   
  
"Do you need me to call the Doctor so ya can get some pain medication?" he asked in a concerned tone.  
  
"The pain is bearable," she replied.  
  
"If you're in pain, ya should take something for it. Let me go get the Doctor," he insisted.  
  
"It is not necessary," she said weakly. "I am a Vulcan, I can control the pain."  
  
"Okay," Trip conceded. He knew arguing would only make her feel worse.  
  
T'Pol reached for a glass of water. It was just beyond her grasp. Seeing this, Trip handed it to her. After she drank several sips, he took the glass from her and placed it back on the stand.  
  
"Thank you," she said softly.  
  
Dr. Phlox walked through the curtains, smiling at them. "Commander Tucker, you should leave now and let T'Pol get some rest."  
  
Trip nodded. He turned back towards T'Pol. "I'll see ya later, T'Pol. I'm glad you're not leaving." Turning, he walked through the curtains and headed to his quarters. This had been a grueling mission, and he needed sleep. He had felt compelled to check on T'Pol before retiring, despite reassurances from the Captain that she was fine. It was odd that in such a short time his distrust of her had faded away.  
  
Dr. Phlox lowered the lights. I'll be staying in sickbay tonight. If you need anything, press the call button." He slipped through the curtains and walked to his office.  
  
T'Pol nodded and the Doctor left the cubicle. She lay thinking about her conversation with Trip. His attitude towards her had slowly changed. She had sensed genuine concern in his manner during his visit. He was the only person other than the Captain who had come to visit her. Perhaps one day, they would consider each other true friends.  
  
The next morning, T'Pol awoke to searing pain. The tissue in the area of her wound throbbed incessantly. It was much more pain than she could effectively deal with. She pressed the call button.  
  
Seconds later, Dr. Phlox hurried in. "Good morning," he said as he scanned the monitors. "What can I do for you?" He could tell by the monitors she was in a considerable amount of pain, but he had learned never to second guess a Vulcan a long time ago. Her coloring and vital signs were better, but the pain levels were extremely high.  
  
She closed her eyes and concentrated on not allowing her voice to reflect her pain. "I need some medication to lower my pain to a more manageable level." Her calm voice belied the fiery pain that was wracking her body.  
  
Dr. Phlox retrieved a hypo from a nearby storage cabinet and verified its contents. He then proceeded to inject T'Pol. "This will help," he said softly.   
  
After she had visibly relaxed from the fast-acting injection, he continued. "Your breakfast will be here shortly. Chef is personally preparing it. After hearing of your heroic actions, he insisted."  
  
A noise behind him caused Dr. Phlox to turn around. "Ah," he said turning back towards T'Pol. "Here it is now." He took tray from the steward, placed it on the over the bed table, and rolled it over her bed. He then helped T'Pol to sit up. "Eat your food while it's still hot. You need to build up your strength." He flashed her an encouraging smile.  
  
She stared down at her food for a few seconds, then picked up the spoon and dipped it into the Plomeek broth. As she swallowed it, she looked at the toast and fresh strawberries that were also on the plate. With the same deliberate motions she had used with the mush on the planet, she picked up a slice of the toast and bit into it. Since refusing to return to Vulcan and marry Kass, she had been questioning all the dictates and custom of her culture that served no true purpose. She could not find any logic in not using ones hands for what humans referred to as finger food. She ate her breakfast quickly, wondering if her people could grow beyond what they were.  
  
Just as she had finished her breakfast and was wiping her mouth with the napkin, Dr. Phlox walked in.  
  
"Excellent," he began with a smile. "You ate everything. Hunger is often a sign one is recovering. I need to run a few tests on you. You should be able to return to your quarters later this afternoon.  
  
T'Pol closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to escape to her quarters. Meditation would help her re-center herself. Between having thought that her return to Vulcan was imminent and dealing with the recent away mission, she felt the need to meditate. Sickbay was not conducive to meditation.  
  
Several hours later, Trip peeked through the curtains and saw that T'Pol was awake. Pleased, he quickly stepped inside. "Hey, T'Pol, you're looking better." He was glad to see her coloring had improved from the day before.  
  
She looked at him and was surprised to feel warmth flood her mind. "Hello, Commander," she said in a voice that was marginally stronger than it had been the previous day.  
  
Trip strode confidently to her bedside. "So is the Doc gonna spring ya today?" He hope that would be the case, because that would mean she was no longer in critical condition. He was surprised how important it was to him for her to be on the road to recovery.  
  
"He should be releasing me soon. My condition has improved enough to warrant it."  
"Glad to hear it," said Trip. His smile lit up the room.  
  
At that moment, Dr. Phlox popped through the curtains. "Ah Commander Tucker, you could not have chosen a better time for your visit. I am about to release T'Pol to her quarters, but I don't want her to walk that far alone. Just in case she has difficulties."  
  
"I'd be glad to walk T'Pol to her quarters," said Trip sincerely.   
  
T'Pol stared at the two men and realized it would be pointless to argue. Part of her was pleased at how quickly the Commander had volunteered to assist her in returning to her quarters. Other Vulcans might not be able to see the value of friendships with humans, but these humans had recently shown more loyalty and caring to her than her own people ever had.  
  
Dr. Phlox handed her a burgundy robe made of deliciously soft, warm fabric and some slippers. "Put these on, then before you leave, I'll give you a pre-set hypo of pain medication. If you find it doesn't alleviate your pain in a satisfactory manner, return to sickbay.  
  
They helped her sit up, then T'Pol slid the robe on and tied it securely. She then put the slippers on her feet. As she eased herself off the bed, Trip instinctively took her arm to support her, forgetting that Vulcans did not like being touched. He was surprised when she did not object, but willing accepted his assistance.  
  
Grateful for Commander Tucker's support, T'Pol gingerly stepped forward. Trip could feel the tension in her body. He wondered if she was really ready to be released, but who was he to second guess the Doctor. He looked at Phlox who was on the other side of the room getting the hypo.  
  
Doctor Phlox noticed the concerned expression on Trip's face as he stared at T'Pol.  
  
He walked over to where Trip and T'Pol stood. "Walking will be painful for several days, as your wound continues to heal, but it will also help strengthen the damaged tissue." He handed her the hypospray. "If you experience any unusual symptoms, notify me at once. I'll stop by and check on you tomorrow. For now, you are to return to your quarters and remain there for the rest of the evening. A steward will bring you supper and breakfast. Depending on tomorrow's check up, you may be able to have lunch in the mess hall."  
  
T'Pol took the hypospray and slid it into the pocket of her robe. She surmised it would be easier to accept it than to argue about it. With Trip supporting her, she made her way out of sickbay. As they walked, she concentrated on controlling the pain each step caused.  
  
As they moved slowly down the corridor, Trip kept a close watch on T'Pol. He could tell even this short walk was tiring her. It seemed she required more support with every step. He hoped she would be able to make it all the way to her quarters. he knew there was no way she'd permit herself to be carried there.   
  
T'Pol was even more grateful for Commander Tucker's support. Every step was sheer agony. Perspiration shone on her face from the effort of walking to her quarters.   
  
Finally, just as Trip feared she would collapse, they made it to her quarters. T'Pol felt a tremendous sense of relief when they arrived at the door of her quarters. She suspected that she would not have made it any further.  
  
  
Her hand shook as she reached out and pressed the button to open the door to her quarters. Never before had she felt so weak. Without Commander Tucker's assistance, she knew she would have all ready collapsed.  
  
Trip saw her hand shaking and held her more securely. He did not want her to fall and cause even more injury to her all ready weakened body.  
  
After the door slid open, he guided her to the nearest chair. "I'm gonna turn your bed down, then you're going to bed. Ya look like you're gonna pass out any second now," said Trip as he walked over to her bed. He pulled the covers back and fluffed the pillows. Then, he walked over and helped her to her feet.  
  
"Slow and easy, now," he admonished her.  
  
T'Pol allowed him to assist her. The short walk from sickbay to her quarters had exhausted her. She did not have the energy to protest his ministrations.   
  
Sitting down on the bed, she pulled the robe off. Trip took it from her, removed the hypo, then draped the robe over the foot of the bed.   
  
"I'll put this hypo on the headboard where you can reach it if you decide to use it."  
  
T'Pol nodded as she slid her feet out of the slippers. When she wobbled, Trip reached out and steadied her. He gently eased her down onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her. Her eyelids fluttered closed. In mere seconds, Trip heard the slow even breathing of sleep coming from her. He quietly left the room.  
  
As he made his way back to engineering, he recalled the events of the previous day. His heart pounded as the vision of the energy bold hitting T'Pol played over and over again in his mind. She had been so lifeless and pale as the rushed her to the shuttlepod. During the flight back to the ship, he feared they would lose her before they ever got there. His animosity towards her had faded as he had gotten to know her. Until he saw her get shot, he'd not realized how important she had come to be to him.  
  
Several hours later, Trip buzzed for entry to T'Pol's quarters. He had persuaded the steward to let him bring her supper to her. He was certain she would be uncomfortable with others seeing her so incapacitated. He hoped she was okay. He knew how difficult the walk from sickbay had been for her.  
  
"Come in," a voice called from within.  
  
Trip pressed the button, and the door slid open.   
  
"Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol slightly confused.  
"I told the steward I'd bring your supper to ya." He placed the food laden tray on the table.  
  
She sat up and pulled on the robe she had worn from sickbay. As she slid her feet into the slippers, Trip walked over to help her stand.  
  
It was all she could do not to moan from the excruciating pain in the still inflamed tissue as she stood. With Trip's support, she made her way to the table. After she sat down, he began uncovering dishes.  
  
  
"Let's see what ya have here. Sarillion stew, Kaza bread, salad, and for desert........." he paused dramatically. "Pecan pie, I thought you could use a little good for the soul food."  
  
"Indeed," remarked T'Pol dryly. "Actually, I have developed a fondness for it."  
  
Trip did a double take. He would not have believed if he hadn't heard her say it himself. "Well.......uh......I'm glad I brought you some then. I gotta scram. I'm dining with the Captain tonight. I'll come back later and get the dishes. See ya then."  
  
Trip left, and T'Pol felt a certain amount of satisfaction in stunning Commander Tucker. Picking up a spoon, she began eating the savory stew. As she had gotten to know him better in the six months they had been on board Enterprise, she had found him more complex than she had ever imagined. Though he had a tendency to be irrational at times, she had also seen loyalty, caring, and honesty in him.  
  
He did not have to admit to her he had read the message Hoshi had intercepted from the Vulcan ship, but his honesty had compelled him to do so.   
  
After she had gotten over her initial annoyance that her private life had become more public than she wished, she had come to see Trip's point of view as well. If situations were reversed, she may have done the same thing.   
  
It was strange she mused, how often she had come to think of him as Trip rather than Commander Tucker. In time, all things changed. That much was certain. She pushed these thoughts from her mind and concentrated on eating her supper.  
  
Trip sat down at the Captain's table. "Sorry I'm late. I took T'Pol's meal to her first."  
  
"It's okay, Trip. How is she?"  
  
"She's still seems to be in a lot of pain. She's too damned stubborn to take the pain medication the Doc gave her," grumbled Trip.  
  
"Well, the more you suggest she take it, the more obstinate she'll be," replied Archer.  
  
"I know, that's why I've dropped the issue for now. "  
  
"I can't fault her for her bravery, but Sopek sure as hell did not deserve an ounce of her loyalty or protection."  
  
"That's for sure. I dealt with that jackass while y'all were being held hostage."  
  
"Well, at least he's going to talk to the High Command about T'Pol and see if he can help her," Archer reminded him.  
  
"I know," replied Trip. "He sure owes it to her. If it hadn't been for her, he'd be one dead Vulcan. Besides, the destruction of P'Jem wasn't her fault. I'd love to speak my mind to that damned Vulcan High Command. They'd get an earful, that's fer sure."  
  
As the wording of his last sentence dawned on them, both men burst into laughter.  
  
As he had promised, Trip had returned to collect the dirty dishes from T'Pol's quarters. He had just finished organizing everything on the tray, noting with satisfaction that she had eaten everything, including the pie.  
  
"Well, I'll take these dirty dishes back to the mess hall. Anything else I can do for ya before I go?"  
  
"Yes, there is. I am in need of meditation to re-center myself. However, in my current condition, I am unable to sit in my customary spot. If you would bring my meditation candles to the table along with the lighter, it would be most helpful."  
  
"Be glad to do it T'Pol." He walked over to the nook she used for meditation and gathered up her candles and the lighter. He carried them back to the table and sat them down. "Now, don't be overdoing it," he admonished her. "You're still weak as watered whiskey." He picked up the tray of dirty dishes and headed for the door.  
  
"I will be careful." She paused for a few seconds. Just as her door slid open and he was about to step out, she spoke again. "Thank you, Trip."  
  
"You're welcome," he answered as he walked out with a huge grin on his face. He wondered if she'd ever call him by his nickname. It warmed him that she had finally done so.  
  
T'Pol carefully arranged her candles on the table. Then, she lit them, and their fragrant aroma slowly filled the air. After a few deep breaths, she began her meditations. The events of the past few days had been very unsettling, and her changing feelings towards Trip Tucker also demanded deeper evaluation. Meditation would make all of these things clearer and bearable. 


End file.
